Tinderbox Heart
by greenschist
Summary: Her mother told her once that true love sets one's heart ablaze, and Hermione thinks maybe she was right. Hermione/Fleur


Disclaimer: I think we all know who owns Harry Potter. (Hint: It's not me.)

Notes: This is for Jasmine "Jazz" Venn as part of the July One-Shot Exchange at the HPFC forum.

* * *

Fleur is oblivious to the way they all stare.

From the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, safely hidden in the pool of darkness between two streetlamps, Hermione watches the men inside watch Fleur. She can sense their longing, even from a distance. She knows they wish the pale fingers turning the pages of her book were touching them instead. They must each wish they had the right to reach up and carelessly tuck long, silvery strands of hair behind one perfect ear. They probably all want to approach her, to talk to her, to try their luck.

But Hermione also knows Fleur would send them away if they did; she knows that—unbelievably, impossibly, _finally_ —Fleur is waiting for _her._

She pulls open the door, sending the tiny bells tied to the inside push bar jingling, and Fleur looks up. Hermione is hit with another impossible revelation. The light in Fleur's eyes, the mingled relief and happiness in her expression, the pink blush of her cheeks, the way she leaves her table and crosses the café with hands outstretched...it's all for her, now.

It's staggering, and she can do little more than clutch Fleur's hands and mumble her hello. She raises her face for a kiss, but rather than the pecks on her cheeks that she expects, Fleur kisses her mouth instead.

Hermione can feel the scattered customers sigh.

She lets Fleur tug her to the table, and they sit across from each other, not letting go until the last moment. Fleur must send some signal to the barista because a Turkish coffee appears like magic at Hermione's elbow, steaming in its tiny cup. She picks it up and sips with care. It's black and shockingly bitter, and Hermione can barely swallow it down, but she watches Fleur's throat work as she drinks it like water.

Tonight, when they leave here together, Hermione knows she will taste the flavor of it on Fleur's tongue. She blushes and turns her head, but the darkened glass reflects Fleur like a mirror. She watches her place the red-rimmed saucer over the cup, turn both upside down, and push them to one side.

Fleur glows with an inner light, and although Hermione knows it is a gift from her Veela heritage, it doesn't make it any less marvelous to behold. She drags her eyes to her own reflection. She is white skin and wild brown hair, as always, but she, too, seems to be illuminated from within.

Her mother told her once that true love sets one's heart ablaze, and she thinks maybe she was right.

She looks at Fleur and catches her watching with a smile ghosting her lips.

"I love you," she blurts. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Fleur reaches across the table and takes her hand again. " _Je t'aime_ ," she replies, voice soft.

Hermione fumbles for her cup with her free hand, coughing slightly when the coffee hits her throat. She blinks to clear her eyes. She has hidden Fleur, lied about her, publically denied their relationship, done things that make her squirm with shame in order to conceal her feelings. It is incredible, a third impossible thing, that Fleur can love her still.

She coughs again. "I don't know why you didn't give up on me. You could have someone," she hesitates and Fleur arches an eyebrow, "braver."

"You _are_ brave, 'Ermione." Her thumb stroked over hers. "Zat is why I did not give up. Zat and…"

Hermione looked up from where she was watching joined hands. "And?"

She shrugs. "We love who we love, no? Zere is no fighting against it because it is not a fight ze heart wants to win." It is her turn to study their reflections in the mirror-like glass. "Without you, I was so sad. No, more zan 'sad.' Desolate. I would wander ze flat each time you left touching things you had touched. A table, a glass—it was as if I were trying to recapture a trace of you." She slants a little smile at Hermione. "So, you see, I love you too much. I knew you would have to come to me. Anything else was impossible."

Hermione sniffs and threads their fingers together until they are palm to palm. They sit until Hermione's coffee turns cold.

"Where do we go from here?"

Hermione blushes. "I thought to your flat."

"Yes," Fleur beams, and Hermione hears the barista drop a cup in reaction, but she has eyes only for her lover. "And for tomorrow? And ze day after zat?"

"For all our tomorrows," Hermione says fiercely. "We're together now. Beyond that, I don't know what the future holds."

"Ah!" A thought strikes Fleur and she pulls away from Hermione's grasping fingers. She watches Fleur slide her upside-down coffee cup until it is in the center of the table. "Well, we can always take a peek at ze future, can we not?" She nudges the saucer toward Hermione.

"Divination?" Hermione groans. "You can't possibly believe in that, right?"

"I believe all things are possible and some things are fated." Her fingers trace the painted red flowers ringing the saucer. "I believe _we_ are fated. If zis is so, zan maybe we can glimpse our futures in small ways." She moves the saucer even closer to Hermione.

She grumbles, but grasps the cup and lifts it. Fine coffee grounds sit mounded like lumpy sediment on the white saucer, and she searches for a shape.

"It's an egg," she says flatly. "Well, I know what we're having for breakfast tomorrow. Divination really _is_ amazing." She can't stop the sarcasm.

But Fleur just smiles, shoves her book into her leather bag, and tosses a few Muggle notes on the table before rising to her feet. When she holds out her hand, Hermione takes it and lets the taller woman pull her up. For a moment, she leans in, letting her body rest against Fleur's and smelling her perfume through the scents of coffee and spices that fill the shop.

She lifts her head from Fleur's shoulder and smiles into her blue eyes. "Let's go home."

* * *

A/N: An egg seen in coffee grounds or tea leaves signifies a promising new beginning.

Prompts used for the July One-Shot Exchange: _Hermione/Fleur, genre: drama, mirror, coffee_

Also used _shocking_ and the poem _"Bread and Music" by Conrad Aiken_ for SableSupernova's Prompts Galore Challenge at HPFC.


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